


if you want me, come and get me

by DragonGirl87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Facebook: DRARRY : Fanfiction and Fanart, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, POV Draco Malfoy, Prompt Fic, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Draco Malfoy, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Villain Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a plan. A fool-proof plan to get Harry Potter's attention. Will it work?





	if you want me, come and get me

**Author's Note:**

> So, there I was, pleased as punch about finally finishing and posting a chapter of my current WIP, and basically just minding my own business (I might have been quietly brainstorming about my Writober2019 fic and grinning at the idea) when I came across this prompt and I swear, I've never ever clicked on the MS Office Word icon on my taskbar this quickly. I mean **_ROPES_**, you people.
> 
> Massive thanks go to my brother **K** for dropping everything and reading this pre-posting as well as supporting this idea wholeheartedly. It's both an honour and a privilege to have you in my life. You are a beautiful soul and I treasure you with all my heart.
> 
> Love,  
Selly
> 
> Here's the prompt:
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/48768746667/in/dateposted-public/)  
  


* * *

Draco relaxed back against the high wall at the end of the dim alley and returned his wand to the holster attached to the dark grey tailor-made chinos beneath his black robes. He flexed his fingers, clenched and unclenched them, then took a deep breath and splayed his hands out against the cold, smooth stones, on either side of his body.

The game had been fun while it had lasted and playing with Potter most definitely had kept him entertained these past few weeks, but it was time to seal the deal. Even though the narrow alleyway was a cul de sac and the wall behind him was at least three and a half metres high, Draco didn’t feel trapped.

Quite on the contrary.

He felt freer than ever.

He casually glanced around and instantly spotted five different escape routes. Granted, for any of those to work, he needed his wand, but tonight he had no intention of escaping or continuing to run. He wanted Potter to find him, and all he had to do to achieve that was to patiently wait right here.

Not much longer now.

In fact, just a few seconds.

Draco huffed out a breath of air, and a low rumble of laughter rose up from the depths of his chest.

With the trail of clues, he’d deliberately planted, he’d made getting caught frightfully easy. Even a Trainee Auror, on the job less than a week, would be able to follow the plethora of evidence, he’d left behind.

And to ensure that it would be Potter who’d come chasing after him, he’d left one final note, a bait, he knew _The Saviour_ would not be able to resist ― not after having been taunted for weeks on end. He’d kept the message simple enough.

Just one sentence.

It was the signature that had made all the difference.

Up until now, Draco had kept the Auror Department in the dark about his true identity. He’d wholly enjoyed having had the opportunity to make them look like fools as they’d chased after _The Phantom of Diagon Alley_, a moniker _The Prophet_ had bestowed on him.

Draco hated the name, but the hunt was nearly over, and he didn’t care anymore what _The Prophet_ had written about him and would, undoubtedly, continue to write about him. It didn’t bother him, because the person they kept reporting about didn’t exist and would never exist again. Draco had been smart enough to use the perfect disguise. A fail-proof combination of Charms, Glamours, and Polyjuice Potion ― a mixture of his own concoction.

* * *

Potter_,_  
if you want me,  
come and get me.  
-Malfoy

* * *

Feeling inexplicably pleased, Draco smirked into the dusk that had started to settle over the city.

A loud crack echoed in the distance.

Footsteps echoed on the wet asphalt.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

A tall, well-built wizard with jet-black hair and round glasses burst through the fog that had started to shroud the alleyway. It wasn’t natural fog but a delayed-release spell, Draco had wordlessly cast a second after he’d apparated into the alley.

Potter’s scarlet robes billowed behind him, and he lifted his wand and pointed it straight at Draco’s chest.

Draco slowly lifted his arms and raised his hands into the air in apparent surrender.

“Good Evening, Potter,” he said, a taunting smile lacing his words. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Instead of greeting him in return, Potter shouted the incantation of his favourite spell.

“_Expelliarmus!_”

Draco’s wand flew out of its precious leather holster and whizzed through the air. Potter caught it single-handedly and without exerting the slightest bit of effort, then twirled it around between his fingers.

Draco didn’t resist the urge to chuckle.

“You needn’t be so thorough, I’ve no intention of hexing you, Potter,” he said. “I merely wanted your attention.”

Potter remained tight-lipped but started walking closer.

Draco didn’t flinch.

He didn’t even move.

He remained still, kept his arms raised up above his head and watched Potter approach.

Potter’s stride was steady, and he walked with a sense of confidence, Draco hadn’t ever seen in him. It sparked something in him, and his stomach flipped pleasantly while the low pressure that had been building and pooling in his groin all day, increased tenfold. He controlled the shiver that surged through him as Potter stopped right in front of him and poked his wand into his chest.

“If you want me, come and get me, eh?”

Potter’s voice was low and husky, and his green eyes sparkled dangerously.

Draco swallowed hard.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Well, Malfoy, I have come.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Draco inhaled deeply.

There was a slight tremor in his hands, and he used the fresh wave of oxygen that flooded his lungs to douse his own nervousness.

A dirty smirk crept onto Potter’s face, and his lips curled upward.

“In a manner of speaking,” he repeated.

Potter’s voice sounded even lower than before, and a jolt of excitement surged down Draco’s spine. In an instant, he was acutely aware of Potter’s proximity and the position of Potter’s wand.

He’d allowed Potter to disarm him with the simplest duelling spell in existence and right now Potter could do whatever the hell Potter wanted to do. He was in charge, and he made no effort to conceal that fact.

Draco’s knees turned weak with the knowledge of that, and he locked them in an attempt to remain upright.

Potter held his gaze and several seconds of silence past between them.

To Draco, it felt like hours, and although he felt tempted to either look away or close his eyes, he did neither. He stoically stood perfectly still and held Potter’s gaze. Potter’s emerald eyes sparkled with mischief and Draco shivered slightly.

He could feel Potter’s wand poke into his chest, and when Potter slowly dragged the tip down his torso, Draco’s entire body felt like it had just caught fire. It burnt with such intense heat that he was unable to control the massive shudder that surged through him. He parted his lips ever so slightly and exhaled softly. Almost out of its own accord, his tongue darted out and he noted the way Potter’s eyes followed its path.

“We won’t need those, will we?” Potter asked.

It took Draco a whole minute to comprehend the question. The fog in his brain made thinking difficult, and he had to use all of his concentration to cut through them.

“No,” Draco mumbled.

Potter smirked and placed both their wands in a pocket inside his robes.

“Smart choice, Malfoy. Now then, if you wouldn’t mind, please do us both a favour and repeat that ostentatious note you left for me.”

Draco blinked.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard.

“You know what the n―”

He tried to protest, but Potter cut him off with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Tsk, Malfoy, do as you’re told.”

To make his point blatantly obvious, Potter placed his hand right in the centre of his chest and applied just enough pressure for Draco to feel the coolness of the stones behind his back seep through his robes and the thin layer of clothing beneath.

He huffed out a breath of air and clenched and unclenched his fists.

“If you want me, come and get me.”

Draco whispered the words into the narrow gap between him and Potter and knowing that it would be his undoing, he tried his hardest not to concentrate on the warmth radiating from Potter’s hand and soaking into his skin.

Instead, he focused on Potter’s gaze and boldly held it but felt dizzy with the effort it took him to do so.

Potter seemed entirely aware of the power he had over him and used it to his full advantage. He brought his free hand up to meet Draco’s hands, and quickly crossing them at the wrists, he pressed them into the unforgiving stone wall. His other hand travelled up to Draco’s chin, and when he cupped it, Draco’s knees buckled, and a shudder of epic proportions surged through him.

“Now, you said _want_. Want in which way exactly, Draco? Don’t get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it’s an important distinction to make before we proceed.”

Draco all but lost the ability to think coherently or breathe properly.

His eyelids dropped and panted. His heart hammered in his chest, and the pressure in his groin was almost unbelievably tight.

His brain supplied him with a selection of delectable images of himself bound tightly to the walls of an Auror holding cell. Magically fortified ropes held him in place, and Harry stood before him, donning his perfectly-cut Auror uniform and reading out a long list of charges.

Potter leant a bit closer, and Draco felt his hot breath ghosting all over the shell of his ear.

“Answer me, Draco,” he prompted.

Draco blinked, and the images in his head changed at once.

This time he found himself bound to a four-poster bed, with his arms and legs spread wide, leaving him vulnerable and open. He turned his head sideways and found Potter standing beside the bed. Instead of his scarlet-red Auror uniform, he wore a pair of tight black trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

His upper half was bare, and he toyed with a beautiful black riding crop.

Draco could practically feel the crop connect with his bare skin and whimpering softly, he blinked and forced his eyes open. He found himself staring into Potter’s transfixing green eyes and his knees buckled again. Potter’s fingers tightened around his wrists, and he leant closer, trapping him between his body and the hard wall.

“Your ropes, your bed, your mercy.”

Draco forced the words out, and Potter’s soft chuckle nearly stopped his heart.

“Wise decision, darling,” he said. “I have just the colour for you, it’ll look spectacular against your pale skin, and I promise I’ll leave you with proper rope burns.”

Draco shuddered.

“Yes, please.”

“Aren’t you delectable?”

Potter chuckled again, and Draco decided that he was in love with that sound. It sent jolt after jolt of excitement through him, and every fibre of him craved to feel Potter’s ropes cut into his skin. He wanted the marks to last a lifetime, wanted them to never vanish, but that was impossible to achieve.

“Such an elaborate hoax all for a bit of my attention. If you want something, Draco, my love, all you’ve got to do is ask. He who asks nicely shall have everything he desires.”

“Are you going to make me ask for it?”

Potter grinned.

His hand moved from Draco’s chin to his cheek, and he caressed it softly. Draco melted into the touch, and he couldn’t bring himself to have any qualms about the way Potter had enticed his desire for submission to come out to play.

“You bet I will, Draco. I’ll have you naked on your knees begging for those ropes before Big Ben strikes midnight, I guarantee you that.”

“Those better not be empty words, Potter.”

Potter laughed.

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, Draco, darling.”

Draco’s eyelids fluttered, but Potter clicked his tongue and Draco fought against the haze that continued to cloud his mind and focused on Potter.

He was too close, too powerful, and too bloody perfect for Draco to be able to keep his bearings and all of a sudden, he could no longer decide whether he’d played Potter or whether Potter had played him. The latter seemed a lot more feasible, but Draco’s mind was too far gone for his brain to attempt to solve such an intricate problem.

“A bit of both,” Potter offered with a warm chuckle, providing an answer to Draco’s conundrum.

“You’re reading my―”

“Thoughts, yes, exactly. You made that one too easy, Draco, darling.”

And before Draco had the chance to protest or glare, Potter captured his lips in a fierce kiss, parted his lips, and sought out his tongue. Draco helplessly melted into the kiss and was vaguely aware of Potter’s possessive embrace. The familiar pull of apparition followed shortly after and a second later the alleyway was deserted once more.

* * *


End file.
